


Ribbed For His Pleasure

by HandsAcrossTheSea



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bottom Dean Winchester, Come Sharing, Condoms, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Season/Series 02, Size Kink, Top Sam
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-05
Updated: 2020-09-05
Packaged: 2021-03-06 20:21:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,873
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26304814
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HandsAcrossTheSea/pseuds/HandsAcrossTheSea
Summary: Sam has the biggest dick.
Relationships: Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester
Comments: 14
Kudos: 234





	Ribbed For His Pleasure

**Author's Note:**

  * For [brothersimpala](https://archiveofourown.org/users/brothersimpala/gifts).



> I didn't realize until I checked that this is the first Wincest that I had posted in a really, really long time. It wasn't even an idea until a couple of days ago, but shouting about Dean being a bottom on twitter tends to generate things. I don't know what to tell you, I just like writing porn.
> 
> The tag for season two isn't really alluding to anything, just how I want you to picture them. I certainly had fun doing it.
> 
> Also, for brothersimpala - who has been so, so chill about yelling with me in the DMs about Dean taking cock, you're the best, cupcake.

Sam, every time he and Dean enter a drug store, always feels like they’re but two steps away from being thrown out. The way that they case the joint, it absolutely looks like they’re suiting up to rob the place. It isn’t true, really - it’s just reflex. So far, they’ve not found a haunted CVS or anything, but that doesn’t mean it  _ can’t  _ happen - Sam just likes their odds that it won’t. Either way, Dean is out front, going straight for the gauze and antibacterials and all that other stuff, while Sam hangs back and checks for whatever else they might need - but Dean has a tendency to think of everything. He’s got a list, too. Sam picks up a few snacks, chips, candy, stuff that will keep Dean happy for the next couple of days. With his hands full, just wandering around, he ends up down the aisle in family planning. Idly, he wonders if he or Dean haver ever gotten anyone pregnant; with Jess, he always used protection but there have been the odd few times that neither one of them have had a rubber on them, and pulling out, well… there’s a reason that they say a condom is the best protection.

But he’s willing to bet money that there are way more little Deans running around out there somewhere than there Sams. It’s a scary thought but so far, none of them have come to collect. What the hell would they get out of Dean anyway? Technically, both of them are dead a couple of times over now, so Sam is going to keep operating under the assumption that they are safe from an angry mom looking for support. Not that he thinks Dean would just abandon a family, but… well, Trojan is in business for a reason. Sam snags a couple bottles of lube, just in case they’re running low. As often as they go to bed together, it’s not the worst idea to pick them up. It isn’t the kind that Sam prefers, but until they can hit up a sex shop, this will have to do. They certainly won’t run out, anyway.

Moving along the shelf, he spies the condoms. Shiny, tight wrapped plastic, with enough suggestion to scream  _ you can fuck without fear of consequence with these.  _ Sam chuckles, bending down to look at the Magnums. There is something about the shiny black box that beckons him to touch, and he shifts his stuff over to his left hand to pick the nearest box up. One of those economy size deals, and Sam can’t help but notice the dust accumulated on its surface. Must not sell a lot of these - then again, most men don’t use a Magnum. Not even Dean does, just the regular old blue box or whatever. Sam doesn’t want to be smug, he really doesn’t - but there’s no way he fits in a regular size condom, he just  _ doesn’t.  _ And mostly, he picks up the box just to rattle Dean a bit, it doesn’t have so much to do with them using them. They trust each other enough that not much has come between them during sex for quite some time now, and their last hook up - his OR Dean’s - is getting blurry. 

What he isn’t expecting, when he meets Dean at the front with his purchases, is for the tips of Dean’s ears to turn red. Two seconds later he’s giving Sam, and then the cashier, this shit-eating grin, but Sam saw that first reaction as clear as day. He did indeed manage to catch him off guard, just a little bit. “Guess we have a party planned,” he tells the cashier. He doesn’t miss the look that she sneaks Sam, either, and Sam moves to stand behind Dean after handing off his stuff. For the moment, Dean is caught up in the appeal of sour gummy worms and the other junk food that Sam picked up. The cashier is still trying to undress Sam with her eyes, and okay, it probably isn’t every day that she gets someone buying the big box of economy Magnums, but Sam’s body is for Dean’s use and pleasure only.

He almost wishes he could put them back, but Dean is already forking over the cash and handing Sam the bag - with the condoms on top. Sam frowns at him, Dean grins bigger, and before they’re even out the door, he’s already digging into the gummy worms. The sky is clouding up, which means they’ll be running into rain as they head east - fan-freaking-tastic. He tosses his bag behind his seat, gets in, and opens up the big bottle of lemon tea that he bought. Dean gets in a second later, still happy with the gummies, and gives Sam a full minute of chewing before he finally asks the question.

“You afraid you’re gonna get cooties or something, Sammy?” He offers Sam a gummy worm, and Sam declines. “Cause last I checked, it didn’t seem to make all that much difference when it came to you licking your load out of my butt.” So casually delivered, yet so filthy - and no, Sam does  _ not  _ choke on the tea he’s drinking, he doesn’t. Dean’s mouth just… runs in directions he doesn’t always anticipate. 

“No, I just… I kinda wanted them. Besides, I got lube, aren’t you more excited about that?” He ogles Dean out of the side of his eye, wondering what it would take for them to use it sooner rather than later. Flat out, Sam’s horny today. They got a late night in yesterday, and an early morning today, and there’s not been so much as a couple minutes of grinding in all that time. He’s perfectly okay with planting the seeds so that they’ll grow. “Unless you prefer it dry, all of a sudden.”

Dean starts the car, snorting with disbelief. “Yeah, and I want to go four rounds with a moon-hopped werewolf as dessert. You know the rules, Sam, you grease the anaconda before he climbs the tree.” Sam laughs hard enough he nearly spits his tea out, because honestly, that’s… yeah, that’s a lot to visualize. Anaconda. Fuck. “What?”

“You couldn’t have picked a less bizarre metaphor?” Sam ends up taking a gummy worm anyway, just for Dean to scowl at him. “And it’s not like I’m  _ that  _ thick.” Well, he is, but he’s got to play this as self-deprecating. It’s not like the way that his anatomy is set up can really be helped all that much. “Dean?”

Dean’s off in a land of his own, and he’s trying to eye Sam’s crotch while he’s at it. Sam holds his bottle in front of him, left hand firmly cupping himself. His boxers are loose enough today that he can’t dress any, he’s smack in the middle. In fact, these might even belong to Dean. “Probably, but that one felt pretty damn accurate to me.” Dean shifts, and Sam wonders just how long it’s going to take before the unraveling truly starts. Sam gives him a while to stew in his thoughts, heading through the western end of Nebraska on their way to God knows where, chasing a case that might have a connection to their last one. It’s as solid a lead as they have right now, and hey, at least while they’re out here, there’s always a chance of stopping in Sioux Falls. Dean keeps talking about something with the timing belt being funny, and better to be stranded among spare parts rather than the middle of nowhere. The Plains States, all flat, all farm, and altogether uninteresting to look at. 

Unless Dean’s naked ass counts as a sight, but Sam figures that a movable feast like that doesn’t really count as a monument of any sort. Just a sure, good thing, one that he wants to dive into. Sam sighs, and drapes his left arm over the back of the seat, fingers just barely grazing the back of Dean’s neck. There’s something warm to him today, and Sam allows himself the chance to touch a little more, moving his thumb in slow paths over the top of Dean’s spine, just above the leather thong his amulet hangs on. He’s replaced it recently, the leather not yet soft and Dean-scented. Dean’s head dips ever so slightly, and Sam feels right at home, the question he’d sort of asked hanging between them.

It’s a hundred miles and a tape and half later before Dean answers. “You are that thick, Sam. Like… they ought to make ones bigger than those for you.” He licks his lips, and Jimmy Page’s guitar punctuates the air like electric perfume. “Except they don’t, do they? I mean… I thought about writing ‘em, a couple times. Cause it doesn’t look like they’re comfortable. Somethin’ like that? Needs all the breathing room it can get.” His right hand drifts from the wheel, coming to rest deliberately on Sam’s thigh. He really is waxing poetic about his dick, and Sam’s hot under the collar for it.

“They’re fine, Dean, really. You know they’re made to stretch.” He licks his lips, tasting some of the sour off the gummies he’s stolen a couple more of. “I mean… I don’t think it would be worth going for the trouble.” Besides, most of the time they don’t even use them. They’ve both gotten so used to  _ not  _ having it, that anything else would feel weird. Or at least Sam thinks that it would. His brain is already supplying that it’s worth exploring just to make absolutely sure, and Dean, fuck, Dean keeps rubbing his leg and bouncing his thigh, asynchronous to the music that’s on. The idea is in his head, and until they find a place to stop off, that’s it, it’s just a thought.

The sun has come back out of the rain and clouds by the time they’re halfway through Nebraska, and at a gas station, while Dean fills up and asks Sam if he wants a hot dog, he reaches behind them and holds the box of condoms. He blows the dust off, thumbs moving over the surface, caressing the damn thing like it’s a long lost treasure and not, well, outsized rubbers. Not once has Sam ever felt comfortable buying the things, even with Jess he always tried to make sure there was other stuff in the purchase. He’s still holding them when Dean comes back with two chili dogs and what looks like a somewhat promising chicken salad sandwich for Sam. “Hungry?”

Sam grunts, and puts the condoms down between his feet. He accepts the sandwich, Dean leans over and kisses the corner of his mouth, sweet for the barest of seconds before he starts to shovel down the hot dogs. The car soon smells like grease and slightly burnt meat but that’s fine, it’s how Dean likes it. They sit in the two spaces that aren’t intended for gassing up as they eat, and Sam feels less… well, he isn’t sure. Like he needs to say  _ something.  _ Dean finally looks over at him, running his fingers through the hair at the back of Sam’s head. “I remember buying ‘em for you, Sam, when you wanted to go out with that girl in Michigan, shit… Annabelle? Yeah, that was her.”

“And I was fucking mortified when you did, Dean.” Annabelle wasn’t the first or even second girl he kissed, but she came at a time when Dean and he were getting to know each other bodies a little faster than Sam was getting to know anyone else. When they were still trying to fight the urge to keep it back, to keep going and trying with other people. Annabelle didn’t deserve it when, after getting the fucking condom on, he just… lost the urge. Not when all he could think about was Dean putting it on him and riding him silly, of course that was when it was way more of a concept than an actuality. “I… I’m glad you were looking out for me.”

“You’re still embarrassed, aren’t you?” Dean crowds a little closer, and Sam has to fight the urge to wrinkle his nose. Fucking chili dog breath. “Sam, for all the swagger that ought to come with, well, what you got, buying the damn helmets is what makes you blush.” He laughs, and it isn’t mean spirited, really, just a little disbelieving. “I don’t really know why you do, but why now?”

Sam chews his lip, and Dean finally reaches around to turn his face towards him. Looks right past his eyes, searching for an answer. “It’s… it’s private, Dean. My body. And I don’t have anything against them, I don’t, it’s just… you saw how that lady looked at me, right? It would be embarrassing for me if they  _ weren’t,  _ uh, Magnums. But it’s like a fucking batsignal, hey everyone, look at what I’m getting.” He’s flushing now even as he talks to Dean, and Dean is the absolute  _ last  _ person he should be uncomfortable in front of.

“You might be the only guy I’ve ever met, Sam, who’s fucking  _ humble  _ about it. It’s sweet. Little fucked in the head, but sweet.” He finally closes the gap and kisses Sam, salt and grease and chili-warm, but he sinks right in anyway, because it’s Dean. And Dean’s mouth is some sort of medicinal distraction, it has to be. He parts his lips and Dean backs him every so gently against the window, and it’s not until he’s starting to suck his tongue that Sam even realizes he’s got a hand between his legs and is massaging his dick through his jeans, rapidly filling it with blood and leaving Sam just this side of dizzy and wanting. Because he got that fucking weird about a box of condoms. “I like your cock, Sam. I don’t go belly up for you because it’s an obligation, it’s because I fucking want to and I like how you feel inside me. I ain’t insecure that you use the big ones, either, if that’s something you’ve managed to talk yourself into. Fuck, I’m  _ proud.  _ Just means it’s the one area you’ve got me beat.”

Sam rolls his eyes, and shoves Dean away, laughing. Sure, his dick his hard, but he’s not about to fuck Dean in the ass in a gas station parking lot. “Asshole,” he says, and Dean comes back for another kiss anyway, lingering long enough that soon, Sam tastes more Dean than he does hot dog chili. Dean sits back after a minute, rubbing his own crotch, and starts the car. They pull off, and Sam reaches for the map of Nebraska on the dashboard, unfolding it.

Dean tugs the corner of it, getting his attention. “Guy in the station said there’s a motel about seventy miles up the road, and I don’t really think that it’s gonna hurt anything if we pull off for the day. My ass hurts anyway.” No, it can’t have  _ anything  _ to do with the fact that he’s horny now, at all. Sam lets him have it. “Fair warning - I don’t think that chili was cooked all the way through.”

Sam groans, but he’ll let Dean have it. “I needed that information, why?”

“Cause you have a vested interest in at least one end that they’re gonna be affecting.”

“I’m starting to wish that the wendigo had gotten you, and no I don’t feel bad about saying it.”

Dean just laughs, and steps on the gas a little harder.

***

Either Dean’s remark about the chili was a joke or he’s just playing it cool, but by the time they reach the town of Cornshuck (yeah, really) they’re both circling each other, with each touch getting a little bolder, exploring, declarative of what they want. Dean takes them to the only motel in town, and it’s… quaint, Sam supposes. Done up in corn colors, so lots of yellows and greens that make Sam think about that time that they deliberately got lost in a corn maze so that they could fool around. Sam was what, sixteen at the time? Fuck, yeah it was. The memory just turns him on more, and by the time they’ve got their bags in hand and a key to the room, his fingers are itching to touch Dean wherever it is he wants him to. If Dean wants to provide suggestions, than Sam is absolutely more than willing to listen. He can follow directions, if there’s enough incentive.

It’s Dean who makes the first move, and it doesn’t catch Sam by surprise so much as it does just cement the fact that they’re on the same wavelength. Dean pulls him in by the front of his flannel, tipping back until they’re against the wall and he’s trapped himself up in Sam’s embrace. “C’mere,” Dean says, soft as the leather jacket on the bed. Sam kisses him, deep into his mouth, Dean beautiful enough that he overcomes the abysmal wallpaper that he’s kissing him against. Sam kicks his thigh between Dean’s legs and soon enough they’re grinding against each other, locked in a tongue-sucking kiss that makes the bottoms of Sam’s feet tingle. If there’s a heaven to be found, Dean’s mouth is always going to be the first place that he starts looking. 

Slow, unplanned, they move towards the bed, a king that is big enough to probably sleep four people. It’s Dean on top of him, unbuttoning him out of his flannel and kissing the skin along the way that really lights Sam up. “Shit, Dean, want you to-” He’s thrown off by Dean’s tongue making hurricane-circles through his navel, licking and sucking the skin all around it. He’s got the tune of it, and all Sam has to do is wait for him to start improvising. His cock presses insistently against his jeans, hard as steel, bursting with want. Sure he wants Dean to suck him, and he will - but he wants inside his brother about a hundred times more. He wants to fuck him, claim him, fill him, all with the damn condom on.

Dean unbuckles his belt and tugs his jeans down, the tent that he’s making in the boxers that belong to Dean big enough that for a moment, his face is obscured. Sam hooks his thumbs in the waistband and pulls them down, left completely naked whereas Dean hasn’t so much as removed his boots. His eyes get wide with seeing Sam’s erection, greedy too - okay, so maybe that part he enjoys without consequence at every turn. “More than enough of you that it’s tough to pick a place to start.”

“Could always get me wet,” Sam suggests, burning with the need for touch. Dean rocks on his heels for a moment, right hand curled around the base of his shaft, just holding him so that he’s pointed up. Precome is seeping from his slit, over the wide flare of his crown, down his shaft uninterrupted to his pubic hair. Idly, he sometimes wonders what it would be like if he was uncut, but watching the smooth skin, the pink of his circumcision scar disappearing into Dean’s mouth with almost poetic beauty, fuck, he’s not wondering about much of anything at the moment. He watches Dean, his lips sealed around his girth, moving like Sam’s cock in his mouth is the only thing that grants him sustenance. 

And Sam doesn’t mind one bit.

He sucks Sam off until they’re both moaning, long enough that by the time he comes up for air, Dean has managed to get his own jeans off and his fingers in his hole, the last of their opened lube used up in the process. He climbs to Sam, straddling him, his hole and thighs slick with the quick and dirty job he did on himself to open his body. Sam reaches for one of the drug store bags and opens a new bottle, pausing for a second before he coats up his length. Dean smirks, and hands Sam the condoms. “I wanna watch you put it on, baby. Suit that monster up for me.”

Sam tchs, but fuck if he doesn’t love it when Dean gets pervy like this. “Hard to do with lube on my fingers.” Dean hops up and grabs a pocket knife, then immediately takes his place back between Sam’s legs once he’s got the plastic snagged. He opens the box and tears a condom off, the gold packaging glaring with the overhead light. Sam tears it open and turns it the right way up, rolling it down his shaft quickly, expertly, just like how Dean showed him. Dean’s eyes get darker, he puts a little more lube on himself, and alright, it certainly isn’t a matter of Sam’s dick looking  _ bad  _ in a condom. It makes him appear even larger, an automatic size boost, the whole damn thing snug around him in such a way that makes him feel every throb of his own body.

“Fuckin’ huge,” Dean says. He lubes Sam up, coating him and jerking him off all at the same time. Sam’s breath hitches, and for a moment, he’s pretty sure that Dean is about to mount up - but he doesn’t. He climbs back up his body, kisses Sam deep enough that half an inch further and he would be in his tonsils, and then uses the off-balance moment to flip them. Sam’s on top again, covering his body, and when Dean’s heels dig into his back, that’s when the message gets clearer.

“Gonna fuck you, Dean.” Sam slides them back to the edge of the bed, Dean’s legs around his waist and his ass hanging off the bed. He lines up and pushes in, the condom cutting off just enough sensation that it doesn’t make his urge to come right away crest nearly as bad as it normally does. No matter how many times he does this, Dean’s body is still a tight fucking squeeze and Sam is only human. Dean moans, swears, arms above his head and fingers clawing at the corn-leaf green comforter. His amulet is askew on his chest, nearly in his right armpit in the tufts of dusky blonde hair there. Sam puts his hands on his hips and starts to move, opening Dean up by degrees on his cock. 

The slow dance before he can really lay into him, the looks exchanged between them, Sam keeps and buries each one for later. Dean feels like fucking heaven around him, warm, tight, familiar. His speed picks up, Dean swears, moans,  _ move Sam, fucking fuck me, what the fuck are you waiting for  _ \- needy, something Sam really only hears when the only thing on his brain is dick. Dean’s eyes roll back in his head and while Sam can’t feel the ribs on the condom quite as much as Dean can, he knows that they’re working their magic.

They really aren’t just for  _ her  _ pleasure, either - works just fine on big brothers who like to bottom, too.

Sam fucks him, fast, hard, deep, watches Dean fall apart on him, down the long tunnel that neither of them are gonna be quick to try and find their way out of.  _ Fuck me, Sam, fuck, yeah that’s it baby, right there, God, right fucking there, fuck me with your big fucking cock baby boy, fuckfuckfuck-  _ having his dick inside Dean does absolutely nothing to quiet him, in fact, it just makes him fucking louder. Sam bears down, chasing his orgasm, the condom bunching towards the middle of his shaft with the force of motion. It’s not slipping off, but Sam is feeling bare skin at the bottom of his shaft. He grabs Dean’s legs and puts them on his shoulders, pounding him to a finish that ends in Dean coming all over his chest and Sam’s orgasm exploding from within, his vision going dark as he unloads,  _ filling  _ the head of the condom, both of them panting and sweating, covered in each other.

“Show me,” Dean demands. “Wanna see your fucking come, Sam, fucking show me.” Sam groans, pulling out, barely softened as he does. The condom is a wreck, but he peels it off, careful to not spill a drop. He looks to see the job he did on Dean’s hole, and yeah, he sees a whole lot of pink and wet. As he holds the condom aloft for Dean’s inspection, he slides right hand towards Dean’s hole and slips his fingers inside, two of them going in nice and easy. Dean gasps, teeth gritting in an expression of pleasure-pain. “Fucker,” he grumbles - but he doesn’t move to have Sam take his fingers out of him either.

Dean still has that greedy, covetous look in his eye, and Sam uses his other hand to scoop up the come from Dean’s chest and body, feeding it to him one finger at a time. Their eyes stay locked as the clean-up goes on, until Dean finally takes the condom that Sam had laid on his chest and pours it over his mouth and chin, licking it up with his tongue. Sam’s dick goes fucking hard as iron again, yanking Dean up by the amulet to kiss the taste of his own body from his mouth, shoving what escapes back in with his tongue. He wants to fuck again, and with a third finger stuffed into his hole, Dean seems to be completely on board with it, too. 

“Gonna breed you,” Sam growls, and if a rubber is an every other time occurrence, that’s fine. “Got you nice and opened up for my cock, Dean, now I’m gonna fucking breed you.” He breaks their kiss and turns Dean over, shoving him up the bed and flattening him out on his stomach with a hand in the middle of his back. Dean moans when Sam re-coats his hole and himself, making Dean holds himself open as he fucks back into him, nothing between them this time.

It’s a close, deep fuck, the kind where Sam has his arms wrapped around Dean’s body. “You like this, don’t you Dean? Like being bred like a good little bitch, takin’ my big fucking cock raw so you can get fucking knocked up.” Fuck, where the hell is this coming from today? “Feels so fucking good, Dean, wrecking up that pretty little hole.” Faster, harder, his stamina diminishing by the second. He doesn’t care, enjoying the decadent slick-slide of Dean’s body far too much to try and hold himself back. That’s not really fair to either himself or Dean, is it? Louder, harder, joined up in a chorus of moans that their sex pulls continually from their mouths. He’s still got the taste of them together on his tongue and fuck if he isn’t going to refresh it, because he fucking can. 

Dean’s biting the sheets, fucked hard, a shattered  _ you’re gonna make me come  _ heard over the slap of flesh. Sam changes up his speed and angle, driving until he feels the ghost of a pulse around his cock, Dean’s orgasm wrung out of him solely by the impetus of his cock fucking him. Sam’s right behind him, feeling his own goddamn nuts pull up close to his body for this one, coming deep inside Dean’s body. It takes some of his breath away but that’s fine, they can lay here and catch it for as long as they need to. He stays there, pumping his hips weakly until he’s run dry, still buried inside Dean’s ass.

Alright, fine - both ways are fucking good, really fucking good. Both are going to require far more testing just to be sure, anyway.

Dean’s the one to move first, squeezing around Sam, pushing some of the come and lube out around his softening dick. “You flooded me again,” he says, like it’s a surprise. “I think you’re overfertile just to rub it in my face, you know that?”

Sam snorts against the back of Dean’s neck, reaching down between them to grab his dick and pull out slow. “Are you really complaining about the difference in volume, Dean? Were you keeping track of just how much I fed you what, ten minutes ago?” Okay, yeah, there  _ is  _ a lot of come leaking out of Dean’s hole right now, and no, it isn’t something that can he helped. He’s had big loads all his damn life. “Drink more water, Dean, that’s all I have to say.”

“Whatever - you gonna clean me up or just let me lay here waiting until a kid comes out?” Dean looks back over his shoulder, his face flushed red and sweaty. Sam quirks an eyebrow and without really breaking eye contact, moves so that he’s behind Dean and can spread him right back open, starting at the inside of his thighs and licking up until his tongue is practically inside Dean’s leaking, gaping hole. 

From the sound Dean makes, Sam judges it to be a perfectly acceptable method to take care of the mess he made. And so long as he shares it with Dean, then what’s the complaint, really?

Until he hears one, he certainly doesn’t intend to stop.


End file.
